


No Vacancy

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [51]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 18:27:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14920602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: This is maybe the story of a lifetime they’re walking into here--or at least one that’ll get him the print cover and the splash page online--and Derek Hale’s General Reluctance to be Cuddly is not gonna blow it for him. It’s just not.





	No Vacancy

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Undercover Married. Prompt from this [generator](http://bleep0bleep.tumblr.com/prompts).

“This,” Derek says, “is the stupidest idea you’ve ever had.”

“Really?” Stiles says. “Stupider than painting your bathroom with day-glo paint and installing a blacklight over the sink?”

He can see the gears grinding inside Derek’s big head. “Ok, fine. The second stupidest."

Stiles grins, loops his arm through Derek’s and moons up at him because he can. “Yeah. That blacklight thing was the stuff of nightmares. Made the place look like a crime scene. Though if your pack could, you know, aim, then it wouldn’t have been so disgusting.”

Derek grits his teeth and squints and one ups him, the sneaky bastard; winds his fingers around Stiles’ and holds his hand tight. Like, uncomfortably tight. Like bone-crushing. “Lay off the pack, Stiles. They’re the only reason that you’re here, that I’m going along with this.”

“I _know_ ,” Stiles says. “I so owe them ice cream.”

They make it out of the parking lot and move into the edges of the crowd, follow the human wave towards the convention center, the long rows of glass double-doors. Around them, everybody is beaming--at their partner, at the early morning sky, at the building up ahead--looking for all the world like this is legit the best day of their lives. He and Derek are seriously gonna have to step up their game to blend in, to fade into the background, to look sufficiently innocuous that nobody’s gonna question Stiles asking them questions every damn chance he has.

This is maybe the story of a lifetime they’re walking into here--or at least one that’ll get him the print cover and the splash page online--and Derek Hale’s General Reluctance to be Cuddly is not gonna blow it for him. It’s just not.

He screeches to a halt on the sidewalk, brings Derek to a dead stop, too, snapping around on the end of Stiles’ arm like a big, broody fish.

“Stiles!” Derek snaps. “What the hell.”

He’s still holding Stiles hand because of course he is, because he did agree to help, because he is here at ok, yeah, the semi-instance of his rowdy, easily amused pack, but he also wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want to be, if he wasn’t serious about helping Stiles crack this case and expose this marriage-counseling cult thingy for the cult thingy it totally is. And if he’s serious, then he’ll understand why Stiles is pulling him close, why Stiles is stepping into his space like it’s his right, like he freaking hangs out there, like he sleeps there, curled warm and safe against Derek’s chest. Not like Stiles has thought about doing that every night for the past, oh, nine years; high school down, college, a couple of years at his dream job, from his dad’s house to his dorm to his halfway decent apartment three blocks from the pack--all that time, all those spaces, and it’s never gone away, his unshakable crush on Derek, his heart’s stupid refusal to let anyone else in there, nope. The sign out in front of it’s forever stuck on _No Vacancy._

“Hey,” Stiles says when they’re face to face, when he lets go of Derek’s hand and wraps that arm around him instead. “Come here.”

Derek, he’s pretty sure, is clueless until the split second before their lips touch, but when they do, he makes the smallest sound, like a baby bird’s kicked him in the ribs, and curls a palm around Stiles’ hip.

“Yeah?” Stiles whispers. “This ok?”

Derek smiles and oh god, Stiles can feel it, the curve of Derek's mouth soft and dry against his own.

“Yeah,” Derek says. He nuzzles Stiles’ chin and Stiles' heart stutters, it stops. “Baby,” Derek murmurs, “come here.”


End file.
